Bad Blood
by aspecialkindofhuman
Summary: When Soul runs off to his hometown to deal with family issues, he leaves Maka with a faulty weapon - and she ends up seriously hurt because of it. Can she find Soul and forgive him for abandoning her and can Soul put aside his familial issues to help his meister get back on her feet? (Sorry for the stupid summary.) Soul x Maka :)
1. Voicemail

SO I got another idea for a Soul x Maka story. Heh. Yeah. So instead of updating the ones I already have, I decided to post THIS! I'm kind of crazy, aren't I? Anyway, sorry for the slow update (blame the North Carolina public school system, not me). Hopefully I'll update this weekend after I take the SAT, so yeah. That'll be fun - I think. Hope you like this one. It mainly centers around my headcannon about what Soul's family is like - and if anyone knows where Soul was born, please tell me cause it doesn't say anywhere that I could find, so unless someone tells me, I'm going to make it up.

yeah, like I said before THIS IS MY HEADCANNON. Pleas don't get mad at me if it doesn't line up with how you envision Soul's family to be. You can write your own fanfiction about that. (Sorry, was that too mean?)

As always, Hope you like it and tell me what you think! (Oh yeah and this is unedited so haha sucks for you! I'l go back and edit it at some point but it's kind of late right now and I'm really tired).

PS this is for Anne/waywardfanatic/whispi. You're a great awesome person and you helped this idea come into being. *kisses for you*

Kay. Onward.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own the Soul Eater characters. Although that we be really cool, they're all from the manga and they own all rights to them.

* * *

**Soul**

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE.

"Hi, Soul. It's Maka. Umm, I probably won't be back to the house today. I'm at Tsubaki's. She and Black Star have been moving some furniture around and she wanted me to take a look. Okay, actually, Black Star's been breaking a lot of furniture and Tsubaki's been buying some new pieces, so yeah. She's having fun with it, but she wanted me to look at it all before she officially decides where to put it and everything. Not that I know much about interior design, I just like to keep things organized . . . Anyway, sorry. Umm, there's some leftovers in the fridge you can reheat and I should be back tomorrow, if not late tonight. Okay. See you later."

TWO NEW MESSAGES.

"Hey, Soul. It's me. Uhh, in case you didn't get my last message, I wasn't home last night. And probably won't be tonight. I dunno, we'll see. Hope everything went well and I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay? Sorry for bailing on my night to cook. I'll make you something extra special tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Soul? It's me, again. Sorry to leave so many messages, but . . . are you sure you're not mad at me? 'Cause I can come home if you want! I'm just going to this really dumb concert Liz is dragging me to. I'll totally come home if you want me to . . ."

FOUR NEW MESSAGES.

"Soul? Soul? Hello? Answer me! Is your phone even on? God. I wish you kept your phone charged. Umm, quick question, where are you? I came home yesterday and it doesn't look like anyone's been home for a few days. There's a bunch of crap in the sink and it looks like you took off in a hurry . . . Just, call me back, okay?"

"If you're playing some kind of joke, this is really stupid, Soul. Seriously. You missed school just to play some dumb prank on me. Way to go. You really are the best partner ever. But Black Star was here today! So whatever crap you're getting into, it must not be with him. What kind of crap are you getting into anyway . . .?"

"Soul. Where. Are. You. Call me back. Now."

"I don't know what you're doing, but you better know I'm going to kick your butt when you come home. Seriously. This joke isn't funny anymore. You're just being an arrogant asshat, making me worry about you when you're probably off slouching in a corner somewhere being all moody over taking a test. God, Soul, you are _so_ immature sometimes. Just grow up, already, will ya? I hate this and I hate you. You better expect a huge freaking Maka Chop whenever the hell you get home."

TWO NEW MESSAGES

"You. Are. So. Dead. Soul. Eater. Evans. Do you hear me?! D – E – A – D!"

"Look I'm sorry for that last message. Just, where are you?"

ONE NEW MESSAGE

"Soul . . . . Soul . . . ? Where are you? I'm seriously worried now . . . It's been, like, . . . three weeks and I don't know if something's happened, or if you're even getting these but it makes me feel better, you know? . . . Oh, God. I told myself I wasn't going to cry again today . . . Okay. No, stop. . . Umm, Soul? If you're alive . . . and I really, _really_ hope you're alive . . . please just. Come. Home. I don't care why you left but I just want you to come back, okay? The house is so empty without you . . . I can barely . . ."

TWO NEW MESSAGES

"Soul? It's me. Again. I, uh . . . Oh, God, I can't –"

"No! Stop! He's not dead! Soul! Soul! If you can hear me, please! They're trying to reassign me! NO DON'T TAKE THE PHONE AWAY! Soul! Soul! PLEASE!"

ONE NEW MESSAGE

"Soul? Hi. It's Tsubaki. Yeah. I bet you didn't expect me to call. Listen. I don't really know how to say this, but, uh, Maka's not your partner anymore. Well, I mean, she's not anybody's partner anymore. She's . . . sick right now. She went out and got herself hurt real bad in a fight. She was using some dumb kid. He's, uh, he's in a bad way now. He freaked and let her take the blow. He got expelled for it, so that's good at least. Oh, jeez, Soul. She . . . Well, okay. So . . . um. If you come back . . . well, if you ever come back, I just wanted you to know that she's in the hospital now. Has been for a couple days. And she probably will be for a few more at least until the wounds clear up. They're pretty bad, Soul. I mean, real bad. Like she may never . . . Oh, God, I can't even say it. Well. Anyway. She needs you, Soul. If there's ever been a time to stand by your meister, it's now, Soul. But . . . I guess that doesn't mean much to you, considering you're the one who walked out on here in the first place. So, that's all I wanted to say. Thought I should let you know, since nobody else was going to.

"Oh, yeah. And one more thing

"You're a real asshole, Soul Eater."

END OF MESSAGES

* * *

VOICEMAIL TRASH BIN

MESSAGE ONE

"Maka? Hi. It's Soul. Look I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. I have to go. I'm sorry, I know this is way uncool and cowardly, but I just have to leave. Family stuff, you know. I would've taken you with me, but I, uh, I know how you hate to miss school. Plus, my family's a real drag. You'd hate him. A bunch of uncool people, in an uncool house, in an uncool city. Makes my skin crawl just thinking about going there. But, anyway. It's something I've got to do. I won't be gone long . . . I hope. So, uh, just wait on a couple of missions, for me, okay? I'll be back soon. And if you don't tell anyone, I'll, ummm, I'll do the laundry for a week. Er, no! A month! That'd be cool, right? Okay. Thanks, Maka. I'll see you soon. Take care."

MESSAGE TWO

"Okay, Maka. So things here are better than I expected. I should be home in a couple of days. I was right about you hating it here though. It's all dark and musty and the rooms are all red . . . it creeps me out. Looks like there's bloodstains everywhere. I'm glad you're not here; you'd probably have nightmares for weeks. Anyway, I'll be home soon, okay? Don't worry about me, I'm a tough weapon. Be careful."

MESSAGE THREE

"I was so wrong, Maka. I was so, so wrong in coming here and I never ever should have left. I'm leaving this stupid house right now, okay? I'll be home in less than 24 hours, if I can book a good flight. God, I'm so sorry, okay. I wish I'd never come to this place. It gives me the creeps and I hate everything about it. I'm going to be home in less than – Wes? Wes, get out of here! God, go away! I'm on the phone! No, I'm not going to dinner I'm –"

MESSAGE FOUR

"I have to stay. God, Maka. Why'd I come here? My father says I have to stay. He doesn't want me to go the DWMA anymore. Why'd I come here? Oh, man, why'd I come here? I hate this place. I want to be back with you, back with our friends, back in my own. FREAKING BED! YOU HEAR ME, WES! I WANT TO GO HOME! NOT TO THIS GOD-AWFUL PALACE YOU PEOPLE CALL A HOUSE! Heh. It's more like a museum anyway. It's dark. There's tapestries on the walls. It's cold and the walls are lined with gold. You can't touch anything in this whole damn house. Even the windows. You fog your breathe on them and there's a thousand maids scurrying to wipe your spit off the glass. It's _nauseating_."

MESSAGE FIVE

"God. Maka. I'm sorry. So sorry. I should've . . . I should've been there. Tsubaki? If you're answering her phone, I . . . God, there's no excuse. I should've left. I should've left this damned house when I had the chance. God, I'm so stupid. I should've known he'd pull some crap like this . . . I should've known . . . . . I'm sorry. Maka. I can't go back now. He's got a hold on me. Him, and the little demon, too. They work together, I think. Both of them are trying to grow the madness in my mind, feed it until it grows into a tumor in my brain. Heh, if only you could hear my piano now, Maka. You'd think I'm crazy . . . Which, now that I think about it.

"I probably am."

END OF MESSAGES


	2. Kid's Call and the Night of High Tension

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait on the update. I kept changing the direction I wanted to take with this but finally . . . TA DA! I ended up with this. So yay, I guess. Anyway, the continuity might be a little confusing so I'm putting in terms of messages. For example, this one is after Soul's last deleted voice mail message. If I was doing Maka, I would put whenever the event takes place after her messages, and so on and so forth. I'm doing that cause I really wanted to get into the action right away without having to explain all the whys and hows and stuff, but in order to do that, I'm going to have go back in flashbacks and stuff in order to explain the hows and whys. If you ever get confused just send me a message and I'll explain.

Kay, whatever. Hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think!

**DISCLAIMER**: Don't own Soul Eater, sadly. So yeah, you guys already know.

* * *

Kid's Call and the Night of High Tensions

**Soul**

Present – Message 5

It wasn't until the third ring that Soul had made up his mind to answer it. He looked at his uncle, and from him he shifted his gaze over to his mother. Both were silent, gazing solemnly down at their plates as if the sound of the phone ringing bounced hollowly off their eardrums. His uncle's face was noticeably harder, cold and steely with a touch of a solid grey gaze. But there was still something there, something wise and hopeful that gave Soul the strength enough to stand.

His chair screeched out from under him, digging rivets in the solid oak floor. He cringed internally, but continued, not stopping until he was fully out of his seat and his palms were flattened on the table on either side of his plate.

"I'm going." His words were unnecessary, but he felt better saying them.

All eyes raised to focus on him with unwavering intensity. Eyes of red and grey, wide and weary, sad and angry. Soul had reached his breaking point. And his family, gathered solemnly around him, knew it all too well.

The first person to speak was not Soul's uncle, but his brother, the only non-sympathetic face in the room. "Just let it ring," he said with a sigh, spearing a juicy piece of steak onto the end of his fork. "You can call her back after dinner."

Soul just stared at Wes, letting his eyes convey all the hard, dark emotions surging through his gut. He didn't want to tell Wes he'd tried, every night. He didn't want to tell his brother how he'd dialed her number a million times, only to drop the call, or dump the message he'd recorded in his phone's trash bin. His finger forever hovered over the end call button, as nothing Soul could say would even sound halfway right.

"No." The words tasted like poison in Soul's mouth. He shook his head slowly, a bitter grin playing around his lips. Years away, less than a month back, and Soul was already finding it hard to fight back, to refuse to bend to their will. Struggling was too hard, he knew. So why try?

He cleared his throat sharply. "I have to answer."

The phone's rolling call died then picked up again, echoing through the vast dining hall. It bounced off the dark paneled walls, playing around the empty half of the room near the servant's entrance to the kitchen. It landed on the table, running softly along the dark oak. It played with the decorative flowers of the wide centerpiece, dusting little moats of dirt off the bent plastic. The phone's call then circled the half of the table near the grand entrance. It was the non-decorative half of the table, the only side Soul had ever seen being used. It fell across the chairs and over the laps of the people gathered there, rolling around like a cat, desperate to be noticed.

Soul.

Wes.

Carrie.

Nessa.

His uncle.

His mother.

The butler waiting at the end of the hall.

The servant waiting outside.

The cook baking dessert in the kitchen.

His father, waiting for death in the comfort of his bed.

It affected all of them differently, playing upon their darkness and their sympathies. They all knew who was calling. They'd always known. But this time, it was different.

This time it was serious.

"Soul, no." His uncle stood as Soul made a run for the door, blocking the entrance with his wide, square shoulders. He drew himself up to his full height, six foot and almost half the length of the massive door, and leaned forward. White hair, the same shade as Soul's, fell squarely across his forehead and peppered his jaw, echoing the empty grey color of his eyes. "Hold on a second."

"No way." Soul planted his feet, grinding his teeth. "I'm answering this call."

"Just call her back." Wes took a large crunching bite of his broccoli, crushing it loudly between his teeth. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"No, it can't." Soul was breathing heavily, crushing his hands into hard fists. "Not this time."

Wes took another bite, snapping the stem even louder than before. "We're eating dinner."

Soul whirled around to face his brother. "No, we're not! _You're_ sitting there acting like a dick while _I'm_ trying to make conversation."

"Your pathetic attempts at 'conversation' annoy me." Wes carefully inspected his stem of broccoli, setting it down and going for another piece of steak instead. At his side, his fiancé Carrie looked down at her lap, playing with the silver ring around her finger. "If you don't have anything intelligent to say," Wes said, tipping his head to face his brother. "Don't say anything at all."

"Screw this bullshit, I'm leaving." Soul turned, running squarely into his uncle's chest.

"Your father's very ill, Soul. Leaving now would be unwise." Soul's uncle tried to reason with him, but there was just enough of a condescending tone to poke the flames of Soul's anger.

"Screw him!" Soul threw his arms up. "He hasn't said more than three words to me since I got back. I don't need this shit!" Soul's voice pitched into a shout. "Not after everything I've been through!"

"Me, me, me." Wes continued to chew his steak, letting the blood drip around the corners of his mouth and dribble off his chin. "You only ever think of yourself, Soul. Try caring about somebody else's wishes for a change."

"If you only knew," Soul spat, curling his lip in disgust.

From out of the corner of his eye, Soul watched his mother's face fall. She reached down with a shaky hand and raised a handkerchief to her mouth. She pressed the white linen against her pale lips with an even paler hand, trying to still the shakiness of her palm.

"Anyway, you're definitely one to talk, Wes." Soul couldn't stop the flood of words from leaving his mouth. "'Cause we all know you're _such_ a saint."

"What are you saying, Soul?" His brother glared at him with cold intent. The blood running off his chin was pale red and getting darker as Wes continued to crunch his steak between his teeth. "Well, come on. Say it, already."

Soul shook his head and turned away. He looked up at his uncle and tried to bury his anger, reaching out to the logical part of his uncle that had never existed in Soul's father. "She might be dying, Uncle." Soul's mouth twisted around the words as he spoke them, and his heart plummeted into his shoes. "Think about it. She hasn't called in weeks. If she's calling now, something's wrong."

His uncle's face twisted in thought even as Wes stood up from his chair, slamming his fork down onto his plate. "You may take this away," he said to the butler in the corner before stalking towards her brother with large, angry strides.

"Brother!" Wes rushed into Soul's face with the anger of three years boiling on his face. "I want a word with you."

"Let's go then." Soul's mouth curled evilly. Something in his chest burned as he faced off against his brother, eager to relieve the tension that had been steadily building since he arrived back home.

"Wait, Wes!" Carrie cried, rushing after her fiancé with a steadying hand on his arm. "Wait! Please, don't fight."

The young brunette rushed between the two men when she realized the hand on Wes's arm wasn't enough. She laid her hand on Wes's chest and reached out towards Soul too, but refused to touch him. Soul noticed the faint tremor in the finger's stretched out towards him, and stepped back, eyes lowering in a solid frown.

"Please," she pleaded, looking between the two brothers with wide green eyes. "Please. Not tonight."

"When then, Carrie? Over my father's deathbed? At his funeral?" Wes's eyes, deep grey, like his father's, burned with an anger he so rarely let show through. "No. We must do this now. Get it over with."

"No, no, please!" Carrie waved her hands over her fiancé as he shucked off his jacket, glaring at his younger brother with all the hatred he'd ever felt.

Seeing that hatred, the fear in Carrie's eyes, and the sadness in his mother's, brought Soul back to his senses. Turning his head he found the eyes of little Nessa, the only face not stricken with fear or anger.

Seven years old and a tiny little thing for her age, Vanessa Evans was the youngest of the Evans family. She was the only one of the Evans family to take after her mother in every trait. Her hair was dark black, an inky waterfall pinned back into two small braids. Her eyes, flamingly red, were bright with youthful energy.

Her mouth was a neutral frown as she leaned back, crossing her legs at the ankle and swinging them back and forth beneath her chair. Her dress was a deep shade of blue and Soul watched as she fiddled with the bow tied around her waist, lifting her red eyes to meet Soul's gaze. She blinked at him, then shook her head once, holding out her hand in his direction and squeezing her palm open and shut.

Soul relaxed backwards, clamping his lips shut. A bead of blood pooled on his lower lip, cut by his own sharp teeth.

"As much as I'd like to kick your ass, Wes," Soul rolled back on his heels, ducking his brother's first pitiful punch. "There are people more important to me than you, and one is on the phone for me right now."

Soul turned away from his brother and almost smacked into his uncle coming back in to the dining hall through the grand double doors. The phone was in his hand, seemingly small by comparison.

He didn't say anything, just handed it to Soul with a hard expression.

Soul snatched it away from him, turning away from the prying eyes at his family's dinner table and bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

For a moment there was silence. A terrible silence that roared in Soul's ears louder than any shout. His mind was racing with the ramifications of that silence as he swallowed harshly, feeling his pulse beat against his Adam's apple.

"Soul?"

Not Maka, not Black Star, not Liz, Patty, or Tsubaki.

"Kid?"

"Hey, Soul." There was some muffled shouting on his end and for a moment nothing but the hard slam of doors. "SHUT UP, SPIRIT!" Kid yelled into the background before lowering his voice into the phone. "Sorry about that."

"Where's Maka?" Soul's tongue was heavy, his heart, made of lead. On the outside, he was made or iron, hard and rigid and standing tall. On the inside, his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. The only time he could ever remember being this nervous was . . .

Was the time he'd first played for his meister.

"I'm surprised you'd even ask." Something dark flooded Kid's tone, pinching the last of Soul's frayed nerves. "You didn't seem to care the 600 other time we called you."

"Is she hurt? What happened? Did she get hurt on that mission with her new weapon?"

"How'd you –"

"Dammit, Kid! Just tell me!"

"Alright, alright. Maka's fine . . . as far as we know. Last time she called we –"

"What do you mean _as far as we know_? Where is she?"

"That's the thing . . ." The anger in Kid's voice slipped away, deepening into weariness stemmed from sorrow. "She's just . . . gone."

"Gone?" Soul hand's clenched tightly around the phone until he could feel the metal creaking around his fingers. "What do you mean, _gone_?"

"She just left. Took her new weapon with her. Last time she called, they were in Pennsylvania at some gas station."

"Pennsylvania?" Soul whirled around. "Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Close to the New York border, why?"

"Oh God."

"What? Soul, what is it?"

"She couldn't possibly."

"Soul, dammit. Tell us where you are. It's bad enough that you just up and left, but know Maka's gone too, and she took her weapon partner with her. We have no idea how to even begin to look for her because every time we manage to trace her phone calls, they're from some random pay phone that she left behind 100 miles ago. And you! This is the first time we've even managed to get a hold of you! I mean, seriously? What the hell is wrong with you two? I know the whole thing with Crona and Medusa and letting the Kishin out was hard on you two, but we've got work to do. Arachnaphobia is becoming a serious problem, and we don't have one of our best weapon-meister pairs around to help us? What is with you both!"

Kid's voice trailed off into the longest, angriest lecture Soul had ever heard from him.

Meanwhile, Soul was racing out of the dining room door, tearing down the entryway towards the grand entrance. Behind him, his family voices became louder as they poured out of the dining room after him.

He raced through the parlor room, past the shadowy door to his old music room, past the grand staircase and into the front entryway. The grand double doors stretched from the floor to the ceiling, flanked by two dark windows, reflecting the storm outside.

Soul stopped in the hallway, breathing hard with the phone still clenched tightly in his hand.

"No." His free hand constricted around the fabric of his suit, stroking the burning scar that stretched beneath it. "No, no, no, Maka. You idiot."

He'd felt her soul playing around the edge of his for the past few weeks, but he'd written it off as a weird coincidence. He'd been thinking about her a lot, anyway. Dreaming about her, calling out for her in his sleep. It wasn't until Kid had called to confirm his suspicions that he knew, _he knew_, his meister was out there looking for him.

And if he'd guessed correctly, she had found him.

"Soul? What is all this about?" His uncle caught up to him, resting a heavy hand on Soul's shoulder.

The rest of the family, except Soul's mother, trickled into the entryway behind Soul, watching the storm rage outside the windows.

Soul merely shook his head, unable to get his mouth to give voice to the words straining at his throat.

Just then, a heavy round of banging rocked the family back on their heels. In Soul's imagination, the door nearly came off its hinges under the force of his meister's anger.

Soul's uncle moved toward the door with a wary eye, cautiously unlocking the chain bolted across the door and popping it open to reveal the figure behind the door.

Two security men, dressed in thick black raincoats, came in through the door dragging a small, wiry girl between them. Soul's mouth fell open as the girl looked up, peering at Soul through dripping black mascara. Her hair, fiery red and obnoxiously curly, lay across her collarbones in sopping waves, staining her rain-darkened clothes with even darker strands of hair.

"You're not Maka," Soul wanted to say but shock and disappointment had caught him around the throat and padlocked his lips shut.

The two men dropped the girl and she fell heavily onto the floor, landing on all fours on the dark wood.

"Soul Evans?" she rasped, spitting water out of her mouth. She looked up at Soul with wide green eyes, the exact same shade and depth as Maka's, and Soul staggered back, struck by the familiar, trusting expression he saw harbored there.

"Who are you?" Wes stepped forward, knocking his brother aside. "And what is your relationship to my brother?"

"Nothing," the girl coughed, flopping back on her knees so she was sitting on her ankles. "But I'm his meister's sister, so that's got to count for something right?"

"What?" Soul's voice squeezed out through a hollow opening in the side of his mouth. "Your . . . Maka has a . . . _sister_?"

"Half-sister, technically." The girl spat more water onto the floor, reaching up to wring her curly red hair. "I'm her mother's first daughter."

"First daughter?" Soul, a usually cool and composed guy, was falling apart under the strain of all his shock.

The girl gave him a half-smirking look, tipping her red eyebrows way up into her hairline. "Did you really think Spirit was the only one sleeping around?"

Soul almost died right then. If Maka had been around, he probably would've and by the time he'd have been revived, Maka would have split his skull on principal alone.

"But that's not important right now." The girl pushed herself up off her knees, straitening to a wobbly stand. She met Soul's gaze solidly, burning a hole in his forehead with her glowing green eyes. "Maka's in danger, and we've got to find her before that new weapon of hers bores a hole straight through her gut."


End file.
